A shred of doubt
by Keilfleckbaerbling
Summary: A dead sheriff, a chest full of knives and an evasive Jane - an initially ordinary case turns into a nightmare. Ongoing multichapter, set during early season 6.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I have no idea where this came from. I didn't intend to start another story, but it seems my muse had a different plan. This might be a slightly darker (and hopefully much shorter) tale than my previous one. It takes place in early season six, somewhere around 6x03 or 6x04 and goes AU from there. The story will be purely from Lisbon's POV...for reasons of suspense, I guess you'll know why after you read the prologue.

I thank the very talented Mayzee for beta reading the chapter!

Reviews of any kind, especially also critical ones (with the exception of flames of course) are very welcome.

* * *

 **Prologue**

Red - everything was red. It was the first thing she noticed as she stepped inside. Sunlight streamed through the half-closed blinds revealing thousands of dust particles dancing through the air - it would have been a beautiful room if it wasn't for the body. The stench of blood filled her nose and Lisbon took only shallow breaths as she stared at the scene in front of her.

"Boss."

She turned around and looked at Rigsby.

"They found a bloody knife outside the house, it had been thrown into the little pond."

She acknowledged his words with a nod. "Have it sent to forensics. Any trace of the gun?"

"Not so far."

She turned back towards the body on the floor. The once light brown sheriff's uniform was stained red. Lisbon stepped aside as the coroner arrived.

She threw a glance at her phone, frowning. Still no news from Jane; slowly her anger at him was turning into worry. As she looked up, her eyes fell on the young deputy standing close to the door. He was white, his fists clenched at his side. Lisbon sighed; each murder was horrible, but nothing came as close to a living nightmare as a dead cop. She braced herself and walked over.

"I'm Agent Lisbon with the CBI." It took a few seconds for the young man to tear his eyes away from his former boss and look at her.

"Henson," he said, shaking the hand she'd offered him. He seemed too shocked to be annoyed by her presence - at least for now. She expected it to change soon, experience had taught her that. Nothing worse than a bunch of locals trying to avenge their colleague. God, how she hated these cases.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," she told him sincerely. She hadn't particularly liked McAllister and the fact that he'd been one of the seven names on Jane's list hadn't changed that…still, seeing him dead unsettled her. She shuddered; first Partridge and now McAllister…the number of Jane's suspects was dwindling down fast - only it hadn't been Red John this time, or at least it didn't look like it at first sight.

Lisbon led the young deputy out of the room. The fresh morning air lifted her spirits - if only slightly.

"You were the one to find him, is that correct?"

Henson nodded, wiping a few droplets of sweat off his forehead.

"Yeah," he swallowed, "we agreed to meet at the station at 5am for an early morning patrol, but he didn't show."

He stopped again, looking back at the house. "I knew that something must have happened. He was never late; never!"

Lisbon nodded, waiting patiently for him to continue. As the seconds passed and nothing followed, she softly asked, "So that's when you decided to drive to his house?"

Another nod. "Yes. Everything seemed quiet at first. I knocked...several times, but there were no sounds of movement inside."

He rammed his hands into his pockets, clearly agitated now. He was very young - Lisbon suspected he hadn't been with the police for more than a year, two at a maximum. This might very well be his first homicide ever.

"Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?"

He shook his head.

"Did you see anyone, or did anyone cross paths with you when you came out here?"

He shook his head again, "No, I saw no one."

He took a shaky breath.

"McAllister liked the quiet here. I think hardly anyone passed this way."

Lisbon had suspected as much. She threw another glance at the house. It was spacious and in excellent condition; it looked like the refuge of a man that didn't want to be disturbed.

"Was the door looked when you arrived?"

"Yes, I had to break it open to get in."

And ruining any chance of figuring out how the perpetrator had gotten in - assuming he'd used the front door. But then...what murderer would lock the door again behind him? A clever one, a voice in her head reminded her, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Jane. Another surge of worry and annoyance swept through her. Where the hell was he?

If possible, the young deputy looked even worse now and Lisbon decided to leave it for the moment. She told him again how sorry she was and asked him to come by the bullpen later for a few follow-up questions.

Cho came out of the house and she saw immediately that he had bad news.

"What did you find?" she asked the moment Henson was out of earshot.

"I think it's best you see for yourself." He led her inside, past the gruesome body and up a wide staircase.

"Any news from Jane?" Cho asked her. Lisbon was taken aback by the question.

"No, not since yesterday morning. Why?"

A short pause. "He better show up soon."

Something in his voice made Lisbon shudder. What the hell had they found?

They reached a door that had been camouflaged as a book shelf.

"A hidden room?" Lisbon asked, astonished. "Why would he need...?" The words died on her lips as she stepped inside. Every inch of the walls around her was covered with pictures.

Red - for the second time it was the first thought that came to her mind. Blood, stabbed women and red smileys looked down at her from everywhere. She didn't recognise the pictures, but the scenes they depicted. The Red John murders - every single one of them. The middle of the wall adorned a bloody smile, covering the wall from ground to ceiling.

"This isn't possible," Lisbon murmured in disbelief. "It can't be."

Cho didn't reply. Instead, he carefully unbolted a wooden chest close to the door. The glint of metal caught her eye; her heart racing in her chest by now. Dozens of linoleum knives filled the chest, neatly stacked on a lining of red velvet. Most of them were still covered in dried blood.

"It seems we found him at last," Cho said, his voice emotionless. But Lisbon knew him too well to be fooled by that.

"Or rather someone else found him first."

He didn't say a name, but Lisbon's blood froze in her veins. For a moment, the walls seemed to close in around her, drowning her in red, and taking her breath away.

* * *

 **A/N:** I first intentend to write the whole story and only then start publishing...but after four months and only one prologue and a few half written chapters I realised that I need the pressure of having to update to get this finished. I therefore can't promise you very regular updates, but I'll try my best. **  
**


	2. It begins

**It begins**

It rung once, twice…then a third time. The breaks in between seemed longer each time.

"Please," Lisbon murmured, "pick up."

With each ring the likelihood of him answering the phone shrunk, but she still held her breath, hoping nevertheless.

Her heart sunk at the slight _clack_ and the announcement to leave a message after the beep. Jane hadn't bothered to replace the custom version with a personal note - she had never noticed it consciously until now. For some reason, it annoyed her.

"Jane," she told him, harsher than she would have a minute ago, "it's me - again. I need you to call me as soon as you get this. Do you hear me? It's important!"

She hung up, throwing the phone on her desk. She didn't believe that this voice message would be any more successful than the two others she'd left in the last hour. It was better than doing nothing, though, and that was her only alternative. She'd seriously considered driving to his motel after they'd left the crime scene, but she'd been caught up in work the moment they arrived back at the office. And, if she was being honest; she didn't expect him to be there, anyhow. No, it was obvious he didn't want to be found - otherwise, he would have answered her calls.

She refused to consider the alternative. Dread pooled in her stomach and she took a deep breath, pushing the dark thoughts out of her mind - only partly successfully. It wasn't the first time he'd just disappeared and surely he was fine and would come back. And, well, it wasn't the first time Red John was seemingly dead either. She swallowed, something else she didn't want to think about right now. She pinched the bridge of her noise, fighting back a headache that was slowly crawling up her neck.

A loud knock jolted her out of her thoughts.

"Yes," she said, sitting up straight in her chair as the door swung open. She was not surprised to see her whole team at the door. In fact, she wondered what had taken them so long.

"Boss?" Rigsby asked tentatively, almost as if he was afraid she might explode any moment. There was her answer - they'd been afraid to talk to her. She waved them inside.

"Close the door behind you," she instructed Cho. The last thing she needed was anyone else listening in on their conversation. They all gathered in front of her desk. Van Pelt looked as worried as she felt herself and Rigsby kept playing with his hands; seemingly similarly nervous. Cho just looked at her, expressionless.

A few moments of silence followed and Lisbon could see that Rigsby tried to find the courage to ask the question that undoubtedly was on all their minds - including hers.

"Did...did he do it?"

To her surprise, hearing the question aloud made her angry. Not at Rigsby, rather at herself, and at Jane, for not being there and explaining himself. The words had been in her head ever since she'd learned that McAllister was Red John - seemed to be Red John. The question had lurked at the edges of her mind, always drifting into her consciousness the moment she allowed her thoughts to calm down, but she had refused to let it take form, had refused to seriously consider it.

"I don't know," she said firmly, trying not to let her anger show. This wasn't Rigsby's fault, or anybody else's on the team.

"But what…what do you think?"

She swallowed, arranging some documents on her desk to gain a few moments to collect her thoughts.

"It doesn't matter what I think," she finally said, looking up at them. "It doesn't matter what _we_ all think. We have to treat this like any other case. Jumping to conclusions won't help us - or Jane."

She sighed, "Listen, I know this is difficult, but for the moment forget about Jane. I want you to look at the evidence as if this was a regular case."

Not that finding Red John would ever be a regular case, but she was sure they got what she was trying to say.

Van Pelt nodded, seemingly happy to have an excuse not to think about whether Jane had something to do with it or not. Cho's face didn't convey any emotions and Lisbon was glad that she didn't know what he was thinking. Rigsby still seemed hesitant, but he didn't speak up again.

"I want you to talk to McAllister's relatives, friends, neighbours…whoever you can find. What do they say about him, about his life?" She looked at Cho and Rigsby. "We need to know every small detail of his life. If he is Red John, I want proof."

"But all the evidence in the house-"

She stopped Rigsby before he could continue."Evidence can be planted." She didn't really believe it herself, but they needed to be sure."We can't afford to miss something, not this time. I want to know where McAllister was at the time of all the known Red John murders. I want to know whether he could have committed them."

Cho nodded, "We're on it, Boss."

"Van Pelt, they found a computer in his house. I want you to take it apart, look for anything and everything that might point to him being Red John. And at the same time see if there's any indication that it was tampered with."

"Okay, Boss. If there's something on it, I'll find it."

"What about the deputy?" Cho asked, "he'll be here soon."

Lisbon stood up. "I'll take care of him." She stopped for a moment, facing each of them in turn.

"I know I don't have to tell you this, but I want you to be even more careful than usual. Nothing of this leaves the office, are we clear?"

It would only be a matter of time until the media got wind of the story, but it wouldn't be through one of her people - she would make sure of that.

"Got it, Boss," Rigsby replied while the other two nodded.

They left her office and Lisbon closed the door behind them before she sat down on her couch for a moment. All she needed was a few minutes of calm to do what she'd just ordered her team to do. She needed to focus on the evidence and forget Jane - at least for now. She glanced at her phone that lay forgotten on the table. Why couldn't he just call her? She sighed. So much for focusing on the case solely. She stood up and not a minute too soon as her door flung open and Bertram entered.

"Lisbon."

She walked around her desk, biting back her annoyance that he hadn't even bothered knocking. "Boss," she sat down, looking up at him.

"Are the rumours true?" he asked her, wasting no time. "Is he dead?"

Lisbon shrugged, "McAllister is dead, that's all we know for sure. We're currently trying to confirm whether he was Red John or not."

"A sheriff," Bertram murmured, "it couldn't have been worse."

He sighed. "Well, apart from the fact that he was murdered by one of our own."

Lisbon bristled, clenching her fist around the pen she'd picked up.

"Did you arrest him already?" he asked almost casually.

Lisbon remembered only too well how Bertram had acted when Jane had been in custody for the murder of Timothy Carter. She knew that he would have no scruples to lock Jane away, that he would do whatever it took to get this over with quickly.

"I presume you're talking about Jane," she said briskly, unable to contain the anger in her voice.

"Of course, I am."

Lisbon moved some files on her desk. "I didn't arrest him - I saw no reason to."

She was determined not to tell him that she hadn't seen Jane for more than a day and didn't have the slightest idea where he might be - which would complicate an arrest quite a bit, irrespective of whether she wanted one or not.

"Come now, Lisbon. You know it's him."

Anger flared up in her. "No, I don't know." She slapped the papers back on the table with more force than she anticipated. "We know nothing. We're only just gathering the evidence. There is nothing tying Jane to this. We can't even confirm yet whether McAllister is indeed Red John."

"This is getting ridiculous, Lisbon. Jane never made a secret about his intentions. You're being delusional."

Lisbon stood up. "I'm not. I just refuse to make conclusions based on mere suspicion or speculation. The moment the evidence points towards Jane, I'll arrest him myself. But until then…" she looked Bertram in the eyes, "until then he's no more a suspect than any other person who suffered because of Red John."

For a short moment, Bertram held her gaze, but Lisbon didn't waiver. He had nothing to prove otherwise to her - not yet. She was right and they both knew it.

"Fine," he said grudgingly. "This is your investigation, we do this your way - for now. I'll give you one day. Question him, but if you don't have anything proving his innocence…"

"You know very well this is not how it works. We'll have to prove his guilt, not the other way around."

She knew she was pushing it too far, but she was past the point of caring.

"Be careful, Lisbon," he warned her, "Jane will not get away with this - not this time - and it's purely up to you whether you go down with him or not. I'll have to protect this agency, no matter the cost. If there is the slightest doubt about your role in this investigation, if there is the slightest evidence that you tried to protect a murderer…"

He didn't finish his sentence, the half-spoken threat hanging in the air between them.

"I understand," Lisbon said coldly between clenched teeth. A knock at the door interrupted them and Van Pelt stepped in. "Sorry to interrupt, Boss. Henson is here, should I tell him to wait-?"

Bertram answered first. "We're done here, anyway." He threw her a last glance. "I'll expect your report by noon tomorrow."

Lisbon took a deep breath as he left her office.

"Boss?" Grace said, worried.

"Bring Henson into Interrogation Room One. I'll be there in a minute."

She sat back down as Grace stepped outside. She took a few deep breaths to gather her senses. She pushed all thoughts of Bertram and Jane out of her mind. She needed to follow her own advice - forget everything else and focus on the task at hand, which was to talk to Deputy Henson again. Finding the truth was the only thing that mattered now.

* * *

Lisbon killed the engine and pulled the key out of the ignition. Darkness flooded the car; the only remaining light being the street lamp on the other side of the road. It was close to ten pm and the road in front of her apartment complex was deserted. Lisbon closed her eyes for a moment, trying to let the darkness and quietness calm her racing mind. She couldn't forget what Bertram had said hours before - not that she regretted her response. They didn't have any evidence connecting Jane to any of this - not yet, but was she being delusional? Jane had never made a secret out of his intentions. Could he have killed McAllister in cold blood, stabbed and shot him…? At least based on what she saw at the scene. The autopsy results were still looming, she expected to get the report the next morning. Her grip tightened around the steering wheel and her breathing accelerated. She knew the answer and she had always known it. Jane was fully capable of murder - he'd proven it in the past when he shot Timothy Carter. Lisbon swallowed - would he have hidden it from her? Could he have figured out who Red John was and not told her a word?

She'd hoped that things between them had changed, and ever since he'd shared his list of seven suspects with her, she'd hoped – no - she'd been sure that he would trust her, in the end. Maybe she'd been wrong.

She took a deep but shaky breath. It was pointless to ponder about any of this - not until she could be certain that it had been him and that McAllister had indeed been Red John. Images flared up in her mind; images of all the pictures lining the wall in the sheriff's secret trophy room. She almost felt sick all of a sudden. She pushed the door open and stepped out of her car, the cold evening air helping her catch her breath. How would Jane have felt if he had seen that room? She hadn't looked for them, but she was sure that his wife and daughter had been somewhere on that wall of horror - a reminder of what he'd lost, a reminder of what he'd set out to do at any cost. No, Lisbon didn't have the slightest doubt that Jane could have killed McAllister and, to her horror, a small part of her almost agreed with him. Assuming, of course, that the sheriff was Red John.

No, it wasn't the thought that Jane could have murdered Red John that almost paralysed her. Lisbon swallowed, struggling to find the keys in her purse as she walked up the stairs to her condo. She felt a pang of annoyance at her body as if it was betraying her by letting her hands tremble. She'd spent the whole day trying not to think about it, but out in the darkness, in front of her empty flat, she couldn't fight it any longer.

Could he have done it and just disappeared out of the country and out of her life – all without a word of goodbye? After everything they had gone through, could he have just walked away without as much as a glance back?

She finally succeeded in locating her keys and rammed them into the lock forcefully. Anger was good, it was better than the alternative. She stepped inside, angrily blinking as her body again almost betrayed her. She closed the door shut behind her and threw the keys on the small table in her hallway. She sensed him before he even moved, her hand on her holster as her eye caught his shadow. She didn't draw her gun, recognising him instantly. The hint of tea in the air was a dead giveaway.

"Don't shoot, Lisbon," he said needlessly and the next moment the lamp above her head flickered alive, "it's just me."

Jane pushed his hands into his pockets, looking at her expectantly, a tentative smile on his lips.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you so much for all your reviews. I'm very sorry I didn't answer them one by one...but I'll have to admit, the sheer number scared me a bit initially. I've never gotten as many reviews to a single chapter before and I suddenly was afraid that I might not be able to deliver what you all seem to expect. I'm not a very creative writer, so don't expect too much. I guess that's all I wanted to say (and yeah, I know, I probably shouldn't write such things, doesn't really serve to keep my readers interested, but I just feel better now that I warned you). I hope you enjoyed the chapter nevertheless.

 **PS:** I of course love receiving reviews, don't misunderstand me. I was just a bit overwhelmed by the overall very positive response.

 **PPS** : Another shout-out to mayzee, for having a look at the chapter before I published it. Thanks a lot!


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